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Reheated (120)

December 15, 2025 36 Comments

From the archives, some immensely progressive ruminations on race:

Too Pale-Skinned For Comfort.

At the University of London, some competitive, if unconvincing, umbrage.

Readers will note that the students, these avowed opponents of racism, refer to themselves, and by extension all black students, as if they were some ancient and unfathomable offshoot of humanity, for whom rapport with outsiders is impossible. And who are supposedly oppressed by the unremarkable fact that, in a white-majority country, their professors will often be white and – as seems unavoidable – older than the students.

Readers may also wonder how such exquisitely sensitive creatures will fare when faced with potential employers who may also be paler than themselves and, shockingly, not nineteen.

In short, the students are admitting, albeit unwittingly, that in fact they are the inflexible and bigoted ones, the ones preoccupied with racist and ageist stereotypes, and are incapable of feeling “comfortable” with people whose appearance differs from their own.

Apparently, for them, learning is next to impossible unless they are being taught by people who look just like them, are of a similar age, and who share the assumptions of a subset of nineteen-year-olds who are very much accustomed to flattery and indulgence.

Perhaps the students are too busy issuing grandiose demands to consider the humdrum fact that a person’s knowledge, perspective and experience, from which one hopes to benefit, necessarily take time to accumulate. Or to consider the possibility that stretching oneself beyond the familiar and comfortable is the general idea of education.

Wokeness and Woo, Together Again.

On undancing white people. And their racist chairs.

The “white body,” it turns out, is a “state of disconnection between mind and body. It is ungrounded and cannot feel the earth.” And which therefore has to be corrected, by an expert, a healer, for $200 an hour. Such are the mental rumblings of Tada Hozumi, a “cultural somatic therapist” whose pronouns, we learn, are “them/they.” Because of course they are.

It would seem that our self-styled betters have merely changed the label, from racist to anti-racist, while their mental habits are much the same as those of the archetypal bigot, only less inhibited by social disapproval. Hence the overt glee in pathologising people of pallor.

The ones who apparently can’t dance on account of their chairs and trousers, and their “energetic imbalance” and “loss of spinal fluidity.” And so, we’re told that a “white body… cannot feel the earth.” Lacking, as it does, that Sino-Negro-Indo-Aboriginal ectoplasm.

World of Woo.

A confession of pallor, and therefore inherent wrongness.

Readers will note how readily and often our practitioner of “embodied medicine” – and pretentious ethno-masochism – deploys the word we, thereby blurring the distinction between her own, somewhat odd preoccupations and those of the melanin-deficient more generally. “We can change,” says she. “In fact, we must change.”

Because speaking for all white people involved in medicine, and by extension all white people, and casually and baselessly accusing them of racism, of being morally inferior, and indeed dangerous to non-white patients, is so very selfless. And somehow, conveniently, not at all racist.

And we’re told that the aforementioned healing and realignment – or neurotic and convoluted self-preoccupation – should take the form of fretting about one’s “privilege,” deferring to the opinions of the Sacred Brown Ones, who must not be “burdened” with the “responsibility for educating those of us who are white,” and by “ensuring… the promotion of physicians of colour.”

Not being white being some kind of credential, apparently, a sin-free state, and a basis for accelerated career advancement.

Clown Quarter Contagion.

At Birmingham University, all is not well. Witch-hunting ensues.

Professor Rowe admits that no evidence of “overt prejudice” against women and minorities has been found, but he nonetheless hopes to inflict discomfort on those deemed sufficiently pale. As if, in itself, this would be some kind of triumph.

“We are mindful that previous attempts at addressing such imbalances have not been successful,” says the professor. And so, rather than revisiting his own egalitarian assumptions regarding the distribution of interest, aptitude and talent, he and his team will be searching for witches and racial ectoplasm.

It’s not unreasonable to suppose that the role of “reverse mentor” will attract people already sympathetic to the hokum being peddled, and intrigued by the personal leverage it affords, and who may feel an ideological obligation to unearth some damning but invisible sin, fairly or otherwise, if only to validate their own conceits.

Which is to say, the so-called mentors – who’ve agreed to participate in a project that by definition assumes white guilt regardless of evidence or lack thereof – seem more likely to be racially bigoted than any random member of staff.

It seems to me that when you’re reduced to hunting for “unconscious bias,” as supposedly confirmed by a person’s preferred charity or the random positioning of a chair, then you’ve crossed a line into something approaching hysteria. And a license for malice.

And yet we appear to have arrived at a point where people are expected to simply accept this kind of insulting presumption and intrusion, with an understanding that one mustn’t question the competence and motives of the clowns doing the ectoplasmic probing.

For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye, etc.

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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (797)

December 12, 2025 136 Comments

When Karens collide. || Carelessness. || He’s a butterfly. || I’m sure the blue hair is entirely unrelated. || A breakthrough in butter spreading. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || A philosopher speaks. || Hair salon scenes. || Ladies, she will take him. || “It’s so amazing to buy tampons,” says he. || She can’t get her doctor to put on a mask. || Meat. || Mortified. || Coin operated mortuary automaton. || The contraptions of Dr Kellogg. || I have questions. || He works in a gas station. || Incoming. || Incoming 2. || The little, little kids. || It’s scholarly and profound, but you mustn’t look at it. || Also scholarly – and taxpayer funded. || 69p. || Parking is hard. || He teleported. || A preference for tidiness. || To put you in a festive mood. || The years just fell away. || Less effort than walking. || And when an outside loo just won’t do, 1967.

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Free-For-All Travel

All-Terrain, You Know

December 10, 2025 91 Comments

Consider this an open thread. I’ll set the ball rolling.

 

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A post shared by Tiffany Smith (@tiffandemma11)

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Academia Music

Those White Devil Blues

December 8, 2025 145 Comments

From academia, that hothouse of social progress:

An a cappella group at Kent State University in Ohio allegedly banned white students from auditioning for certain solos

Ah, the arts. Where it’s all thou-shalt-not.

Emails obtained by Campus Reform display how Vocal Intensity A Cappella limited certain solos to “people of colour,” claiming white students would be engaging in “cultural appropriation” if they were to perform them.

Not really in the spirit of what music is, methinks. Sort of, “You only get to sing this if we think you look right. Because appearance – specifically, your racial classification – is what matters.” And hey, who wouldn’t love a game of Who May Sing What, Based On Their Skin Colour? How terribly uplifting.

Needless to say, no corresponding restrictions or accusations of “cultural appropriation” would be tolerated regarding minority students performing music deemed white. Say, as when the troupe performed the works of the Jonas Brothers and the very pale pop songstress Ariana Grande. But clearly, reciprocal principles would be too much to ask.

Mark Phillips, a three-year member and the a cappella group’s beatboxer, contacted a board member to inquire about how the exclusion of white students aligned with Kent State’s anti-discrimination policies. Phillips suggested the limitation seemed “at odds with equal opportunity” in his message to the executive board.

Fair point.

“I… believe that whoever gives the strongest performance should be given the chance,” he wrote. “Art, music, and culture are meant to be shared and celebrated, not gatekept.”

Being entirely reasonable, this didn’t go down well.

In response, the board accused him of violating the university’s anti-discrimination policy, placed him on probation, and scheduled a disciplinary hearing requiring him to “plead his case” before the entire group.

Yes, I know. The word irony scarcely covers it.

Despite the group’s policy of unilateral racial exclusivity in singing being somewhat dissonant with the university’s codes of conduct, which prohibit “discrimination… based on race,” Mr Phillips was warned that his expectations of fairness and merit might have dire consequences. And there followed exquisitely detailed conditions of any further discussion of the issue, with stern pre-emptive cautions against “aggressive wording.”

Vocal Intensity styles itself as the university’s “premier all-gender a cappella group” and claims to provide “an inclusive environment for all individuals who have a passion for music.” But obviously, not if you fancy singing Alice Smith and Miles Caton’s Last Time (I Seen The Sun) while being offensively white.

Update, via the comments:

Dicentra asks,

So who gets to sing solos in Handel’s Messiah?

Germans or Englishmen?

Well, quite. And the reactiveness of the group’s board – their spluttering that anyone might notice the inconsistency and even dare to point it out – and their remarkably detailed conditions regarding any further discussion – does rather paint a picture of a certain mindset. A type.

As noted here more than once, it does save a lot of time and aggravation if pointed use of the words inclusive, cultural appropriation, etc., is regarded not as a welcome or reassurance, but as a warning of the kinds of personalities you’ll be likely to encounter, should you venture closer, foolishly.

Commenter Aitch quotes this,

Sort of, “You only get to sing this if we think you look right. Because appearance – specifically, your racial classification – is what matters.”

And adds,

They’re the singing police.

And hey, everything is so much more fun when it’s been racially organised.

See also, the thrill of ideologically corrected dancing.

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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (796)

December 5, 2025 141 Comments

Salmon and something else. || They’re such a joy, I’m told. || And now we rain destruction upon the audience. || Incoming. || Close enough. || “You’re not okay,” says she. || Office Christmas party, 1970. || Just be careful in the basement. || He’s the non-binary final boss. || She has a Ouija board. || “We are breeding people,” says the New York Times contributor. || “One of the few joys that come with being born white,” says she. || But she still gets to decide what you say you see. || On the mysteries of smoke detectors. || Meeting students where they’re at. || Oppressed by a parking meter. || And yet the patriarchy still didn’t care. || Muhammadan pilates. || You may need to squint. || Contrasting worldviews. || He has quite a lot of flags. || And finally, there was an attempt to find a house key.

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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.